


Medieval Naming Customs

by Morvith



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Family Issues, Gen, Genealogy, Infant Death, Introspection, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani is an Incurable Romantic, Names, Nico e i suoi fratelli, Nicolò di Genova is not allowed to name anything ever, Old Married Couple, Siblings, Slice of Life, Someday I will stop using my personal interests in fanfiction but today is not that day, The other Nicolò di Genova, this is why
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:20:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26379478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morvith/pseuds/Morvith
Summary: “Wow, you got lucky.”“Lucky?”“You are the only one in your family with a decent name.”Or, in which Copley's obsessive data compilation goes further back than they imagined, mistakes are made and even 900-year-old Immortals can discover new things about their past.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani & Nicky | Nicolo di Genova
Comments: 68
Kudos: 350





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Trigger Warning** : mentions of infant death

They aren't exactly friends with Copley. His house is safe enough now, but it will never be theirs – they are not the X Men. However, their next mission requires extensive preparations and, after a series of frustrating phone calls and one disastrous video call, everybody had grudgingly agreed it would be better if Copley got to prepare them in person.

In between breaks, they all tend to drift to Copley's Stalker Wall, which he is perpetually in the process of dismantling.

Nile has a feeling it will never be done, not just because Joe and Nicky have a tendency to pick up random pictures and papers and start reminiscing, dragging Andy along for the ride down memory lane more often than not. Theoretically, it all ought to be destroyed and that's the real rub: Copley is like a collector, he is quite happy to scrub any and all information about them from the Internet and various international databases as long as he can keep it all to himself.

She can't quite complain, since she finds the Stalker Wall fascinating, too, and is probably even worse than Nicky, Joe and Andy combined when it comes to “helping Copley with the papers.”

She is idly leafing through some Russian newspaper articles when she comes across two new pages pinned together: the copy of a tightly-written Latin record and a smaller sheet torn from a modern notebook.

Her Latin is non-existent, but she looks it over anyway and is surprised to find out she can make sense of some words, enough to figure out the general meaning. Her attention is immediately drawn to a couple of sentences circled in red.

_Anno Domini millesimo sexagesimo primo Octobris vero die decima sexta baptizavi Nicolaum legitimum et naturalem filium Bonifaci et Oriprandae, hodie circa meridiem natum._

She blinks. “Wow. You found Nicky's christening record?” She glances at the notebook page, a list of names and dates. “Is this his family tree?”

Copley shrugs uncomfortably. “Just his parents and siblings. The Diocese of Genoa had started digitizing its oldest archives right when I was waiting for some other information, so....”

“So you couldn't resist. Seriously, how did you do it? He couldn't have been the only Nicolò in all Genova. Or in the Crusades.”

Copley grins. “No, but his father's name wasn't very common. I just got lucky. That, and I must thank the Catholic church's hoarding tendencies.”

Nile frowns at the list. “Are those actual names? Nicky's the only one I recognize.”

“Recognize what?” The man himself asks, looking up from the blueprints he and Joe are studying and moving closer.

“Your name. Copley has your christening record, look.” She holds the page out to him. “Your mother's name was really Oripranda?”

Nicky takes it, raising his eyebrows. “Yes, why?”

“Nothing,” Nile replies quickly – immortal or not, one does not mess with other people's mothers. Her eyes drift back to the list in her hands. “Wow, you got lucky.”

“Lucky?”

“You are the only one in your family with a decent name.” She grimaces. “Sorry, that was rude, but I mean, your name wears rather well, even now. Imagine going through immortal life as Teuzio or En...Ing...”

Nicky cranes his neck to read over her shoulder. “Inghilberto.” A strange look flashes on his face, gone before she can hope to decipher it. “You could make Berto out of it. Or Bert.”

Somewhere behind them, Joe snorts. “I can't see it. It wouldn't suit you at all.”

Nicky hums distractedly, glancing at her list and the paper in his hands before handing it back to Copley. “Anyway, this is not me. Though you almost got it right.”

“It's not?” Copley almost sounds affronted. “What do you mean? I was sure...”

“These are definitely my parents, I'll grant you that.” He points to the first name on Nile's list, which is followed by a hastily scribbled 1058. “However, my brother Agiprando was 11 years older than me, not 3. Transberga was older than me, too. I remember her a little, I was 4 or 5 when she died. I was right after Notula, though I don't remember her at all.”

“Are you sure?” By the look on Copley's face, he realizes how stupid that sounds as soon as the words leave his mouth.

Nicky rolls his eyes, his voice drier than a desert. “Yes, I actually know how old I was when I died the first time. Imagine that!”

“Sorry. It was stupid.”

“So you were the youngest?” Nile asks.

He chuckles. “Hardly! I had another 7... no, 9 younger siblings. I always forget Cuinelupa and Tagalberga.”

Under normal circumstances, neither Copley nor Nile would ever consider they have something in common. However, they are both children of the 20th century and their families have always been on the smaller side: their reactions are almost identical.

“Your parents had 16 children?!” Copley splutters.

“Your poor mother...” Nile mutters, resisting the urge to cross her arms over her belly. “Also, are you shitting me? There's no way those are real names!”

“Of course they are real!” Nicky replies, sounding a mix between surprised and offended.

“I thought Andy said she forgot about her family.”

“Andy is several millennia old, Joe and I aren't even a thousand yet. Besides, what's wrong with their names? They're perfectly normal, if a little old fashioned.”

“A little? When's the last time you met a Cuinelupa?”

Nicky thinks about it. Honest-to-God thinks about it, for several seconds until he has to grudgingly admit defeat. “ Not since the 12th century.”

“And I thought Renesmee was bad...” Nile mutters, feeling torn between curiosity and dread. Curiosity wins. “Do you remember your younger sibling's names, too?”

“I think so. Let's see, Laidiralda was right after me, then were Rusticello, Bonizio, Azzo...” To his credit, Nile doesn't even have to protest the last one: one look, half disbelieving and half scathing, is enough, Nicolò cringes a little and raises both hands in surrender. “I know, _I know,_ his name did not age well. Anyway, after him there was our sister Teuza...”

“Isn't that the same as your older brother's name?”

“It is, she was probably named after him. Where was I?”

“Amisperto.” Joe suggests without looking up from his work.

“Thank you, love. Amisperto and Eriperto...”

“Twins?”

“No, why?”

Nile sighs and rubs a hand over her eyes. “Of course they weren't. I honestly don't know whether that makes it better or worse. Who else?”

“That's it, Tagalberga and Cuinelupa were the last ones. I told you they are all perfectly normal names. Aside from Azzo.” Nile stares. “What?”

She moves to the door and yells down the hall. “ANDY!”

“WHAT?”

“PLEASE TELL ME NICKY IS NOT ALLOWED TO NAME ANYTHING EVER!”

“HEY!”

Joe bursts out laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Latin Translation:** In the year of Our Lord 1061 on the 16th day of October I baptized Nicolò, legitimate and natural son of Boniface and Oripranda, born on this day around midday.
> 
> **Nicolò's siblings in order**
> 
> 1) Agiprando - 1058  
> 2) Nicolò (I) - 1061  
> 3) Teuzio  
> 4) Inghilberto  
> 5) Transberga  
> 6) Notula  
> 7) Nicolò (Nicky) - 1069  
> 8) Laidiralda  
> 9) Rusticello  
> 10) Bonizio  
> 11) Azzo  
> 12) Teuza  
> 13) Amisperto  
> 14) Eriperto  
> 15) Tagalberga  
> 16) Cuinelupa 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Trigger Warning:** mentions of Infant death

“Is everything okay, Nicky?” Yusuf asks softly. “You've been staring at your phone for a while.”

Nicolò sitting still, calm and utterly focused on some object or the task at hand is a familiar sight, one of which he never tires, however, after more than 900 years, he is intimately acquainted with every nuance and variation of his expressions. Melancholy is not something that appears often, but, when it does, it runs deep.

Nicolò looks up, the briefest flash of guilt in his eyes, then he wordlessly hands him his phone – an email from Copley, no text, only the picture of some lines in Latin attached.

_Anno Domini millesimo sexagesimo quarto Iulii vero die decima morbilli vexatus ad calcem candidam evolavit Nicolaus parvulus Bonifaci et Oriprandae annos nato circiter tres._

They send a shiver down his spine, even though he knows, _knows_ that's not his Nicolò, it never was and couldn't have been. They have run into their fare share of homonyms over the centuries, he more than Nicolò, but this is different. This is a bit too close for comfort.

“Why is he sending you this stuff?” Yusuf frowns, wary.

“I asked him to find it.” Nicolò replies, gently taking his phone back. “I was curious.”

Yusuf crosses his arms over the tabletop and leans forward. “And now? How do you feel?”

Nicolò hesitates. “It's just...strange, you know? Seeing my name like that, even if I know that's not me.” He looks down at the screen and Yusuf knows his eyes are lingering over the word _vexatus_. If he had the physical page before him, he'd be tracing it with his fingers. “I got the measles, too, when I was a child.” There's no need to state the obvious out loud – he lived while the other Nicolò didn't – but it's clearly on his mind.

“You're not thinking you somehow stole his life, are you?”

“No, of course not. I might...No, I would have, at the beginning, if I had known about him,” Yusuf thinks of three little words – _ad calcem candidam_ – and how heavily they would have weighed on Nicolò's mind in those early, bloody days. There had been a time, after his first death and before they truly found each other, when he had thought himself damned, forever rejected by God. “But not now. It's just...I wonder. I guess it does feel a bit unfair that I should live so much and he so little.”

“Such things happened, in our days. You lost other siblings to measles and sundry illnesses, didn't you?”

“All except Teuza and Agiprando, you know that.” A sigh. “I don't know why I'm doing this. I hadn't thought about my brothers and sisters in centuries, I didn't even know he existed before last month. I didn't know Inghilberto, Teuzio and Notula existed, either, before last month, yet I can't help thinking about him.”

“That's not weird at all, Nico,” Yusuf says, switching to his oldest nickname. “Between the name you share and the fact you've just learned about him, well, it makes sense.”

“Andy would tell me I shouldn't bother...”

“Andy doesn't know everything,” he interrupts him, briefly laying a hand on his shoulder. “If you want to think about it, if you need to think about it, do it. Just don't get lost in the what if game.”

“I know, I know. It's particularly useless for us.” The shadow of a smile curves his lips as whimsy chases away melancholy. “If he had lived a bit longer, my parents would have had to pick a different name for me. Would you still love me if they had named me Berengherio or Landranco?”

“Absolutely. But not if you had been named Goffredo or Raimondo, that's where I draw the line.”

Nicolò laughs softly – a sound Yusuf loves. “Now that would have been awkward.”

“Ah, well, I would have talked you into changing it long before they fell out of fashion. None of them would have suited you at all and a beautiful man like you deserves a name to match.”

Almost a thousand years and Yusuf can still make him blush. He never tires of that, either. “What would you have suggested, then?” He asks, smiling.

Just as Yusuf starts to answer, their flight is finally announced. They don't quite have to scramble, but the conversation is definitely interrupted.

However, as they stand in line at the gate, another thought suddenly occurs to him. “Did Copley send you your christening record, too? The right one, I mean.”

Nicolò shakes his head. “No, I didn't ask for it. He probably got it anyway, knowing him.” He glances at him, answering his question before Yusuf can resolve to ask it. “You can ask him, if you want.”

Sweet Nicolò, who never denies him anything that's in his power to give, even parts of himself. Especially parts of himself. “It's yours. If you'd rather I didn't...”

“I don't mind. Really.” The quick flash of his smile. “Why not, if it makes you happy?”

Why indeed.

Yusuf types a quick email to Copley before switching his phone off for the flight.

He doesn't look at his phone again until many hours later, after they have settled in at the safe house and Nicky lies sleeping in bed, jet lagged and exhausted. When he finally does, Copley's reply is there waiting for him, sent only minutes after his own request.

It's just like the email Nicolò received: no text, only a picture.

_Anno Domini millesimo sexagesimo nono vero die vigesima octava Martii baptizavi Nicolaum legitimum et naturalem filium Bonifaci et Oriprandae hodie circa solis ortum natum._

Here he is, his Nicolò, who has often been compared to the moon but came into this world with the sun.

“Born at daybreak,” he whispers, looking over his lover's sleeping form. “How fitting, hayati.”

Tomorrow, once they are both awake, he will tell him so and Nicolò will blush again and kiss him with his lips curved in that small, secret smile of his. He loves that smile, he'll never tire of seeing it, of feeling it against his skin, soft and warm. Just like sunlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Latin Translation 1:** In the year of Our Lord 1064 on the 10th day of July Nicolò, young son of Bonifacio and Oripranda, tormented _(vexatus)_ by measles flew to a bright(er) end _(ad calcem candidam)_ , aged about 3 [about 3 years born] 
> 
> **Latin Translation 2:** In the year of Our Lord 1069 on the 28th day of March I baptized Nicolò, legitimate and natural son of Boniface and Oripranda, born on this day around dawn. 
> 
> **Goffredo or Raimondo:** Italian versions of Godfrey and Raymond - Yusuf is referring to Godfrey of Bouillon and Raymond IV of Toulouse, pre-eminent commanders in the First Crusade. You can see why he has a bad association with these names even though they aren't too terrible. 
> 
> Random headcanons that didn't make it in this story:  
> \- Nicolò's oldest nickname was actually Nini, because his younger siblings had trouble pronouncing his name. 
> 
> \- Yusuf was born in the middle of the night, under the moonlight. He thinks it's perfectly fitting, too.

**Author's Note:**

> This story was brought to you by _Names in Europe from the Etruscans to 1600_ by Sarah J. Waldock (marvellous source)
> 
> All names mentioned are historically accurate and in use before 1100 CE (in case you were wondering, that does include Nicolò). The fact that Nicolò's parents only ended up reusing one name (two if you count Teuza) is not quite likely, but I could go for more historical accuracy or I could cram as many terrible Medieval names I could in a single chapter. Hardly a choice. 
> 
> Also, Azzo is literally one letter off from the Italian word for "dick". Occasionally it _is_ the Italian word for "dick". Could I pass it up? Of course I couldn't.  
> In his parents' defense, the current Genoese word for "dick" is _belìn_. Hopefully the Ancient Genoese word was closer to this one. 
> 
> The number of children they had is very much possible (see: Maria Theresa of Austria's children). 
> 
> The text for the christening and death records is based on the 18th century records from our local parish church because that's as far as I got. I'm hoping it was a rather standard formula. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
